


Construction Efforts

by InquisitorM96



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, oc x varric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 10:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InquisitorM96/pseuds/InquisitorM96
Summary: Varric Tethras is Viscount of Kirkwall, and Peregrine Isra is his right hand mage. A clairvoyant and abjurer for the Inquisition, she volunteered to help Kirkwall’s recovery when her friend returned to the broken city. After an abnormally large party (thrown for the purposes of inter-state relations and getting absolutely smashed), Varric invites his friend back to his room. Here alcohol helps a normally closed dwarf look for answers to questions Sober Varric would rather die than ask.





	Construction Efforts

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little scene with one of my Inquisition advisors and her dear, dear friend.

The halls were so empty. Peregrine figured they had to be some of the last few awake. Viscount Tethras walked beside her in silence after their idle chatter had passed. Normally the silence between them was comfortable, but the dwarf’s shoulders were tense. 

“Can I ask you a question?” he said.

“No - how dare you.”

He pursed his lips, unimpressed, but smiling behind his eyes. Peri sighed, grinning. 

“Of course you can, Varric,” she smiled. “Maker’s breath…”

The viscount looked down at the flagstones before them, his hands held behind his back. He looked serious, and a little wobbly. It had been a large party. He took a deep breath.

“You… love me,” he murmured.

Peri stopped, a look of bemusement wide on her face. It was the kind of look you would find on a confused dog or deer that had recently been slapped in the face. 

“I’m sorry, my lord?” Varric turned back to her and looked concerned. 

“I said you love me. Am I right?” Peri opened her mouth, brow crinkled in confusion. 

“I mean… you’re not wrong…? But I assumed you’ve known for years and it didn’t seem to be… an issue…” The dwarf turned around, expressionless, and resumed the walk. Peri shook her head. “I-Is there a reason you asked that or are we just playing Twenty Questions to pass the time?”

He sighed as they arrived at his chambers and entered. It was bathed in the light of a crackling fire, the low, wide bed neatly made. Books of all colours and sizes lined the walls and Bianca leant by the door. “I just want to understand,” he replied, pulling out a chair for the mage at a small table by the hearth. “We’ve worked together for years, you came to Kirkwall, helped rebuild – you’ve practically been my right hand... discounting Bran, I guess…” His face crinkled like it did during a game of chess. He poured a glass of something almost black that made her eyes water. “But you’ve never expected anything back from me and I… ” 

Peri leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “You want to know if my intentions are impure?” she smirked. 

He huffed, falling back into his own seat, his hideously silky dressing gown flapping with the movement. Peregrine suppressed a laugh. Varric sighed and focused himself, staring daggers into the grain of the table.

“You know I’m not good with this stuff.” He took a swig of his drink. “I thought everything was going… alright? The Chantry’s back, the Gallows are gone… I thought you were happy here. But tonight you offered your hand in marriage to the Duke of Wycome. Why?” 

Peri didn’t blink. 

“Because Kirkwall having stronger relations with one of the most commercial Marcher cities could benefit everyone - and you know I could do a lot for the elves there.”

“He’s an asshole – a drunk with no remorse or sympathy. And you could do a lot for the elves anywhere,” he said quietly. Peri leaned forward. 

“Everything I did in the Inquisition, I did for the good of the common folk of Thedas. Everything I’ve done in Kirkwall has been for the common folk of Kirkwall… If getting married to some washed up, brute of a Duke – that you know I can manipulate into kindness - would help this city become stronger, I would do it – asshole or no. Would you prefer I remain here flirting with the kitchen girls? Or pining after you?” 

Varric’s eyes widened and he looked at her for the first time in their conversation. “That’s not what I meant, I just…” He broke eye contact again, this time inspecting the ceiling. “I just wondered why you hadn’t made a move. Most people would have after four years.” They sat in silence. His face betrayed nothing, years of expressionless Wicked Grace coming in handy. His discomfort had reached poker face levels. She sighed.

“Because, Varric, I learnt a long time ago that having something you love just close enough is better than risking it be out of reach forever. I know you don’t feel the same way and so I kept to myself. I helped, and I help, and I will help, and when you ask why I do it all I tell you the truth.” Peri ran her hands across her face, tiredly. “I do it for Kirkwall. I do it for a city that deserves better than what the years have given, and I believe you can do great, amazing things for it. The least I can do is assist you any way I can.” The dwarf looked up at Peri, properly this time. She noticed his eyes looked tired, so tired. He was finally looking his age. A small streak of silver was beginning to creep its way along his temple, and she smiled at him fondly, but his face only held sadness.

“You sacrifice too much, Dandelion. You’re gonna offer every part of yourself away. One day there’s gonna be nothing left to give.” He stood, letting out a long breath and turning to the bookshelves. Peri frowned. The silence between them grew loud and uncomfortable, like a fiddle playing one long, wrong note. Speaking seemed impossible – would he even hear her across the din?

“What would you have me do?” she finally said.

“Take a risk on what you want!” he replied too quickly, spinning on a heel to face her. His jaw was clenched, eyes frightened and the hand gripping his glass was white-knuckled. The mage softened, her heart breaking. Did he…? 

“Varric?”

His shoulders slumped. “Just go…” he said, waving his glass and moving back towards the books. Peri stood hesitantly. When the dwarf remained silent with his backed turned from her, she left. Alcohol from the party buzzed through her veins, with the crushing sense of confusion only brought about by the thought of romance. It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to dream, but now her mind exploded with the possibilities that what if brought. Her soft leather shoes were quiet on the stone as she returned to her room, the occasional guard nodding as she passed. Breathing hard, her eyes saw nothing as she stomped down that hallway, every footstep taking her further and further from the future she wanted. Wanted. When was the last time she wanted something for herself? One day there’s gonna be nothing left to give. “Shit,” she breathed, turning on her heel back the way she came.

\---------------------------------------------------

Varric downed the rest of his glass, wincing at the fire in his throat. He felt the world beneath him sway, and he his stomach churned. Staggering, he fell onto the soft red cloth of his Very Grand, Very Fancy Bed and snuggled up to the comfiest pillow he could find. Landing himself in the quilts was the easy part, however. Now he was left with only the sounds of the fire piercing the suffocating silence of the room, and sleep refused to come. What had he done? Why’d he have to say anything? He could have just stayed quiet and she would have never brought it up. He wasn’t upset she offered to get married, it was because it was to Wycome, he told himself. He’s a miserable old fuck, and she deserves better… far better… He grumbled and gripped to his blankets tighter. Even Choir Boy would be a better match, but he’s too pious, she’d get bored. What about Ostwick? Nah, he’s too old to even get it up… Tantervale didn’t deserve her – and the whole place smells like nug-dung… And so he continued, listing the various Dukes, Viscounts and Princes of the Free Marches until a thunderous knocking rattled his door. He winced at the noise and rolled under his blankets, some of his long hair getting caught in his mouth. “Piss off, not right now, thank you,” he shouted. Another thumping. “Go awa-ay,” he sang, voice like gravel. The door burst open, hinges clanking, and Kirkwall’s viscount threw back the blankets. “I said FUCK- Peri…” he trailed off. She stood there panting, feet apart and stance strong, like she used to when they’d fight side by side. “Shut up, Tethras” she said, her voice shaking. She looked terrified but determined. He sat up in bed, bunching the sheets around his waist, cautious of the purpose with which she strode over to his bed. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, heart pounding beneath his broad chest.

She grabbed the front of his robe and let out a shaky breath. 

“Taking a risk,” she whispered, before pressing her lips to his.


End file.
